We Few, We Happy Few
by Just A. Dora
Summary: ‘…From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered; We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;’ --'Henry V', William Shakespeare.


We Few, We Happy Few…

"Mr Malfoy. Is he free?"

"Harry Potter?" The secretary doesn't try to conceal his excitement at seeing The-Boy-Who-Lived, the defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the saviour of the wizarding world, accompanied by Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, of all people.

"Mr Malfoy?" I prompt.

"Oh, yes Sir, I'll see if he is free. Please take a seat." Hermione does. So do I, but Ron stands, pacing slowly, visibly uncomfortable at being within such close proximity to Malfoy. Who he hasn't seen since we left school. Hermione hasn't seen him since Dumbledore's funeral. I haven't seen him since the battlefield…since that one awful night when he chose to do the right thing, right in the middle of the war. Better late than never, I suppose.

That war was terrifying, said Hermione. Worst experience of my life, said Ron. So painful, said everyone else.

So…boring, said Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

Excruciatingly…dull.

Painfully…long.

_Every single night, the same arrangement_

_I go out and fight the fight._

Every single God-damn day, and usually nights too. Fight. Kill. Yawn.

I tried to explain it to myself. Couldn't. But Draco managed to explain it to me. He felt the same way. Tired. Not suicidal, just…there's that word again…bored. And cut-off. And sort of tingly.

_Still I always feel the strange estrangement._

_Nothing here is real, nothing here is right._

Not right. War was wrong. I t was a really bad play that, contrary to popular belief, had already been rehearsed. Inside everyone's head. Over and over until they were word perfect. But some still tripped and stepped on cues.

_I've been making shows of trading blows_

Then, at curtain call, some would take a look around. Check to see if anyone had been pushed off the stage. Or worse, recruited by the rival performers, who had better props, and safer scenery.

_Just hoping no one knows_

_That I've been going through the motions_

_Walking through the part_

I couldn't seem to feel as passionate as everyone else was about the fight. Even Snape seemed to be enjoying himself. But not me. And not Draco. Huh.

He saved my life. While I was fighting the Avada Kedavra curse, he strengthened the protection my mother had left me in my blood, and saved me. It nearly killed him. I asked him afterwards, when we were celebrating a good day's work with some beer, why he had done it. Do you know what he told me?

"I fancied a change of scenery."

Turned out he was just as bored as I was. So he created a spell that saved my life and fought for the 'good' side for a while.

For about thirty seconds.

_Nothing seems to penetrate my heart._

Ron killed his mother. He tried to kill Ron in return. I protected Ron, went to my best friend's side without hesitation. Suddenly wondering if I should have.

_I was always brave, and kind of righteous_

_Now I find I'm wavering_

The answer is, as always, yes. It was the 'right' thing to do, after all. The good thing. Even if we lost an ally.

Draco went back to having the better props. And he used them. But eventually, we put his theatre company out of business. Blasted their manager to smithereens. Draco didn't seem to care. He just disappeared. Presumed dead. Bollocks.

I'd had enough by that point anyway.

_Crawl out of your grave_

_You'll find this fight just doesn't mean a thing _

Crawled out of his grave, he did. Well, strolled out of his incomprehensibly expensive California mansion one day only to bump into me. I, who was on holiday with Ron, and was admiring his Mercedes.

"Hello. Like my wheels, do you?"

Self confident bastard hadn't even changed his name. So sure that no one would look for him. He'd been right.

I'd bumped into him completely by accident.

I had lunch with the traitor, and we talked. Caught up on old times. Had a nice steak.

"Are you going to turn me in?" he'd asked delicately.

"Pass the sauce."

He'd chuckled and handed me the bottle.

"Are you, Harry?"

"Turn you in…Hmm…I don't know." I frowned in pretend thought.

"I'll take that as a no."

He had been right. I had had no intention of doing anything beyond handing him the bill for lunch.

And yet…

Hermione finished university last year. Top of all her classes at Oxford. Studying Literature, and Psychology, and anything else in her free time. Came out with smashing degrees. Her parents were so proud of her. The Weasleys were proud of her, I was so proud...

The Ministry gave her a high profile job. So good, it doesn't have a name. But the pay is too large to be legal, if you ask me. Basically, she has all access to the prophecies. She controls what spells are allowed to be used anywhere in the world. She's in charge of the research regarding time-travel.

She wants to change all our lives for the better. I suspect one of her projects is to bring my parents and Sirius back…make it so they never died. Another is the war. Went on for too long, she tells me. I agree. But I don't think she means it the same way I do.

Well, anyway, she came across some details. Regarding Ginny's death. She showed me what she knew…the long and short of it was that Draco killed Ginny shortly after Ron killed his mother. An eye for an eye.

Neither Ginny nor Narcissa had even been on the battlefield. Not really. So there was no way either had been caught in the crossfire. Both Ron and Draco had done it deliberately. Tried to make a point. Tried to cut deep enough into the others skin so they'd be easier to destroy. Both had failed.

This little meeting is for them to patch things up. Molly and Arthur agreed to it easily. They don't want to hate the Malfoys anymore. They just want to let Ginny rest. Let Ron move on.

I have to say, I agree. I need it to end. I will end up pushing myself off the stage if the curtain doesn't fall on this scene soon.

"Mr Malfoy will see you now." Yay.

Draco stands as we enter his office. He pulls out Hermione's chair. Shakes Ron's hand. He and I smile at each other, rather ironically, but nonetheless amiably. Ron sits. Draco sits. I stand. And silence reigns.

"Ron, I…I ask for you forgiveness." I frown slightly. Draco has never hesitated in his life, not even by accident. He's memorised a script.

But Ron nods. Nothing more. He looks him in the eye, without friendship without hostility, only with….

Oh, I saw that. Draco did too, he catches my eye for a second, so I know. Ron held exhaustion in his eyes, bordering on…well, boredom.

Good Lord, this is a surprise.

And then there were three. Three men who have danced too long, who are handing over the role of actor, pitching in for early retirement.

It's not a bad life in the audience. It's peaceful. Ron will like that.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((0)))))))))))))))))))))))

Déjà vu.

Lunch with Draco Malfoy.

Ron has fish and chips. Hermione has some kind of seafood that none of us can pronounce. Draco joked about that, relieving the tension, and Ron laughed. That was unscripted.

Oh, Draco and I have steak.

"Pass the sauce."


End file.
